OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(52)
As he got in his car and started the engine, Gio thought about the future. He hoped Carla had meant what she said to him about wanting to keep seeing each other after the case was closed. He drove home with the window open and the breeze ruffling his hair, picturing new scenarios with Carla as his submissive—not a relationship of blackmail and intimidation this time, but one of mutual trust, like so many Doms had with their long-term subs.
He daydreamed about having a restaurant of his own someday. None of the hokey mob-related gimmicks this time, either. No, this place would be classy, elegant, the kind of joint that people went to on special occasions. A place for joy and food and drink and celebration, where he could stroll leisurely from table to table, welcoming his patrons personally and rejoicing with them on their birthdays and graduations and anniversaries.
These thoughts almost made him dizzy with hope. He was happier than he could ever remember feeling before.
Free. After a miserable lifetime of violence and disappointment, he would finally be free.
Gio parked his 'Vette in his driveway and strolled in through the front door, whistling to himself. He knew this might be the last time he ever saw his house before being put into protective custody and relocated, and he went from room to room, taking a last look around. Most of the furniture and possessions he'd collected could easily be replaced, and he was sure he'd be able to send for the ones that couldn't.
There was only one room that Gio knew he'd truly miss. Sure, he could rebuild his Special Room wherever he ended up, and maybe starting his collection of toys, swings, and whipping posts all over again would even be kind of fun. But he'd always remember his attic hideaway fondly, and he went up the stairs to sit in it one final time.
As Gio reached the top of the stairs, his feet slowed to a stop and he stared, shocked.
Mario stood in the center of the Special Room.
He was holding a gun.
Chapter 28
Gio
As Gio stared at the gun in his father's hand, Mario looked around at the furnishings and oddly-shaped toys with a mixture of wonder and disgust.
My gun's in my shoulder holster, Gio thought. There's no way for me to reach for it and aim before Papa plugs me.
“I knew you were a degenerate, Gio,” Mario sneered, “but minghia, I had no idea you'd gone to hell with yourself this much. This disgusting room, and all this...sick paraphernalia. I'm glad your mother didn't live to see this. She'd have died of shame.”
Gio suddenly became aware of the shopping bag bunched in his fist, and he saw that Mario's eyes were on it as well. Could Mario see what was inside it through the thin, crinkled blue plastic?
“What are you doing here, Papa?” Gio asked. “What's all this about, huh? What's with the gun?”
Mario shook his head sadly. “Louie got in over his head with some gambling debts. When I came to collect from him, he was so scared that he'd have said anything to save his own skin. Like for instance, telling me that he was cooperating with the Feds, and that the lady lawyer you've gotten so fond of is an undercover rat. All this time, I thought you two were sneaking around because you were fucking her and trying to hide it from me. But the truth is worse than that, ain't it? You've been feeding her info, and now you're gonna send your own father away for life. Because you've always been a weak, spoiled, ungrateful little zero, and you've always hated me, in spite of everything I've done for you.”
Gio felt the blood in his veins start to boil with rage. His familiar companion had returned and was howling for him to fight back against this old man's poisonous hypocrisy.
“Actually, we were just fucking,” Gio snarled. “I knew she was a Fed, sure, but I didn't say squat to her about you or the business until I found out that you killed my brother.”
Mario's eyes widened. “Shut up,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You never had a brother. You're talking crazy.”
“Yeah, I must be crazy,” Gio countered, his voice rising. “Because you've always told me how family's the most important thing, right? How you're always loyal to your own blood? That's why you murdered Salvatore, your own fucking son, just because he wanted the life you forced on me instead. That's why you're here pointing a gun at me right now.”
Mario's face was getting red, and his lower lip trembled slightly. The gun in his hand started to shake.
“You think that's what I wanted?” he yelled. “You think it didn't tear my heart out of my fucking chest, doing that to my own flesh and blood? You think I wouldn't have done anything, anything at all, to convince Sal to just go away and live his life somewhere else? But he wouldn't listen! I tried and I tried, I told him what I'd have to do if he stuck around and kept shooting his fucking mouth off, but goddamn it, he just wouldn't believe me! He kept saying I'd come around, I'd see how useful he could be, and he wouldn't fucking leave.